Dad was back in about an hour with the statement to Mom, “You’ll have an RPG to work with by this evening.” Nothing more needed to be said, but ... could feel the gears grinding in Mom’s head as she worked out some of the details of her part of the project. Yeah, that was a part of my mental gift.A wooden crate was delivered just before supper by a nondescript panel truck. Two men brought in the crate and set it down in Mom’s workshop. They were dressed as typical delivery men, so it was. Drinks after dinner, your friends will get you to unwind.The drums on this song seem almost tribal. Ritualistic.Her head moves in consistent rhythm. I see glimpses of her right ear as his fingers catch and releases large portions of the lovely red. The hand she doesn’t have on him slips off his lower back and buttocks and between her own legs. I picture my open hand slamming into her ear.His sudden moan breaks my trance and gives me some concern. This can’t end too soon, but sometimes it does. More

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